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By Angela Gardner

Hello my little crumpets. The Diva has experienced a busy whirl of activity since last month. The biggest thing that kept me occupied for one day, at least, was that little party on the Hudson, Wigstock. Wigstock Logo

September sixth I wore my most sensible platform sandals, short shorts, and animal print top to take to the turnpike and journey to Manhattan. It was a beautiful day for glamour, sunny but not to hot, with a cool breeze to waft the finery of the multitude. There was a brief backup at the tunnel when all that man made wig fiber (concentrated in one place as the queens converged from all over the East Coast) started to coagulate in the tunnel heat and oily atmosphere, and it was only though the valiant efforts of an heroic hairdresser from Hackensack, who utilized an industrial strength detangler, that the clog was broken and the bewigged multitudes broke through to Manhattan.


What's It All About?

Ladies of Wigstock

Wigstock is all about wigs. That was the spirit behind the first Wigstock, lo those many years ago. Gimme hair down to there! As long as it's Mod Acrylic. Now, the focus has blurred. While the majority still proudly wear their wigs, others have moved into different areas of personal expression. There were outlandish outfits, piercings, wild makeup, leather, rubber, and several people in just plain shorts and Ts. (What's up with that?) There were men in women's clothes, women in men's clothes, gay people, straight people, bi people, and probably a few aliens. There were wigs every where, from the top of the giant screen television halfway down the pier, to a bewigged foot, and a small, radio controlled car called the Drag Buggy.

Despite some technical problems ("Honey, we're gonna need more monitors than that!" "Oh my God, where's my lash adhesive?") the show got started on regular old "drag time," supposed to be 2 , but closer to 3. Strange Wigs

All the while the crowd kept streaming in. The police were stopping traffic on the West Side Highway so the revelers could cross and make their way to the pier. Crowds of onlookers gathered on the East side of the highway and availed themselves of the many opportunities to get that special photo or video of the good, the bad, and the ugly.

My attorney, Leslie, (I never go out in public without good legal advice) and I wandered around the basic black (faded to gray) asphalt pier and snapped pics of the most wonderful costumes. On the way in we ran into Village Voice columnist Michael Musto on his way to cover the event. Michael had his wig in hand and he paused, after we had compared notes on what it's like to be well known reporters for major media outlets, and got his coif adjusted. I think you'll agree it's a good look for him.

Michael Musto

There was a warm, fuzzy sense of well being attached to the day. It was relaxed and pleasant to be there with all the other wig fans — feelings no doubt brought on by the positive psychic vibes of the day that were amplified by the giant screen televisions and energy of the professional drag artistes... or maybe it was that Bloody Mary I had with brunch in the Village. It took me back to my college days attending outdoor rock shows. Unlike back then I neither had a jug of soda half full of hooch in a paper bag, nor did I get a horrible sunburn. A sensible Diva always has her #48 sun block at hand during the summer months.

Visit the Wigstock Pictorial for many more fab photos.

Back to Studio 54

As a young Diva I missed the glory days of Studio 54, the club that defined Disco back in the 70s. I was a manly rocker back in those days and dutifully hated Disco. Just goes ta show how a girl, er, boy can chang in 20 years. It wasn't till the 80s that I got in touch with my big haired, overly madeup femme self and hit the New York club scene. So, it was fun to get a call from Spike Lee Productions to appear in a film called Summer of Sam. It's set in 1977. What did they want me to do, you ask? Be a drag queen, honey! Ah, typecasting at work again. A couple of Fridays ago it was back up the Turnpike to 54th Street (through some of the worst merging at the Lincoln Tunnel that I've ever seen) to get gussied up for Spike. I admit to some disappointment when I found that I was not to be the only TG lovely on the set. Most notable for their participation were the fabulous Gem Gender and the hot little honey I worked with a few years back in the film Stonewall, Baroness Fiona. The Baroness is sexier than ever, and Miss Gem's corset was oh so tight.

Our role in the film was to be part of the crowd outside the club waiting to be picked to enter. As we stand there with the other background types, but looking more fab, of course, the stars — John Lequizamo (looking a lot like Travolta in Saturday Night Fever) and Mira Sorvino attempt to enter the club. They are subjected to haughty rebuke from the door staff, and just as they are about to leave John Savitch comes out of the club with his entourage. (He's a kind-of macho Warhol.) He sees the hapless couple, takes their picture, and then cajoles them into coming along in his limo to a really hopping place.

While it made for a great scene, it dashed any hopes I had of appearing at the bar in an intimate little scene with either John. When the film arrives in theaters look for my back. They had me all in silver, including a silver mylar wig. Miss Gender told me that she has auditioned for a major role in a film that will start shooting soon. It's top secret right now, so this Diva is not allowed to breath (or type) a word. If Miss Gender get's the role I'll tell you all about it.

That's it for this month my precious pets. I've gotta go soak my feet. Those silver pumps are killers. Till next time, check out the Wigstock Pictorial, and big kiss!


The Diva is a busy woman who just can't read every page on the web and every newspaper. If you come across any juicy dish send it along to The Diva.
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